The Dissonant Interval
by Zee-Magnees
Summary: The One Ring did not lay idle on the riverbed of the Anduin in the 2000 years between Isildur’s death and its discovery by Smeagol. What happened to it, even the wisest cannot tell....Multi-universe crossover, PG-13 for potential language and violence.


Disclaimer: I do not own HP, BtVS, Angel, Charmed, LotR, or the His Dark Materials trilogy. They remain the properties of their respective creators. All I own is the plot.

Author's Note: Anyone who's read the disclaimer and seen what section of ffn this story is in knows that it's a crossover of the above mentioned universes. Keep in mind that, with the exception of LotR, they all exist in the same world. I've alsofudged the timelines a bit, so they all take place at the same time. This story is set after OotP, the final seasons of BtVs and Angel, the end of the His Dark Materials trilogy, and after that one episode of Charmed where the Avatars turn back time to keep the Charmed Ones from learning about them.

**The Dissonant Interval: Prologue- Legend becomes Myth**

"_And there in the dark pools amid the Gladden Fields, the Ring passed out of knowledge and legend; and even so much of its history is known now only to a few, and the Council of the Wise could discover no more."_

Gandalf the Grey

* * *

Upon the slopes of Mount Doom, Isildur, son of Elendil, cut the One Ring of Power from the hand of Sauron the Deceiver, and took it for himself, naming it his price for the spilt blood of his father and brother. On that day of doom, Isildur, now High King of Gondor and Arnor, and bearer of the One Ring, set into motion events that would take a two thousand years to unfold, events beginning with his death, and unleashed a power upon a world that would rip itself apart to possess it.

* * *

For all their cruelty and savagery, orcs could be silent as the stones themselves when they wished to be, and so there was no warning for the king and his guards. From out of their mountain dwellings, the orcs ambushed a company of Men following the path of the Anduin River north as it wound its way through the Gladden Fields.

Isildur, King of the Realms in Exile, was the first knocked down, tackled off his horse by an orc. Together, king and foe grappled on the cold earth, rolling toward the trees on the road's eastern bank, each one struggling to gain mastery of the other. The orc had managed to get his claws around Isildur's throat, and was slowly suffocating him. Isildur tried to pry the claws off, to no avail; the orc merely tightened its grip. Summoning his strength, Isildur drew back an armored fist and smashed it into the orc's belly. With a pained grunt, the orc loosened its hold and Isildur shoved it away. Drawing his blade, he stepped up to the orc and delivered a killing blow before it could recover.

Turning back to the road, he found his guards locked in mortal combat against the abominations of the mountains. He spotted his esquire, fighting alone beside his steed, and Isildur hurried to relieve him, lest he be overcome.

"My lord, there are too many of them," spoke Ohtar, parrying an orc-blade with his sword in one hand and driving into the orc's chest the dagger held in his other, "More orcs emerge from the woods!" He pointed into the grey wood, from which a black tide poured forth, swords and pikes raised to slaughter. "Let us return south, to Lorien! The Lady of the Golden Wood will give us refuge."

Isildur heard the words of his esquire, saying nothing for a moment as he stood over the body of one of his fallen men, sword singing as he slashed at a pair of the vile creatures. They leaped back, away from the bloodstained blade, one impaling himself upon the sword of one of his overeager fellows and the other's head hewn off by one of the remaining men. "We cannot retreat! Our backs are against the river," a thought seized upon him, "_The river . . . _," and with it, an overwhelming desire to use the Ring, "_Could I? Yes, and with the Ring . . . ."_

Isildur's thought was broken by a piercing cry. Turning, he spied Ohtar, face-down on the earth, the orc that had felled him now advancing toward Isildur. "_The shards!_" He raised his sword, preparing to cleave a path to his esquire and the precious fragments he carried, "_No, I can return for them, but first I must live to do so_," and with that, he turned away, slipping on the One Ring and taking a running leap into Anduin the Great.

The true nature of all things is revealed in times of danger. So has it has always been, so it will always be, so it was when the Ring, sensing a way to return to its master, slipped off the finger of Isildur, leaving him visible for all to see, and vulnerable to the tender mercies of the orc archers on shore.

As the body of the former king was shot through and through with arrows, staining the waters crimson, the strong currents of the Great River bore the Ring swiftly south.

* * *

It is here, at the betrayal of Isildur, that our tale diverges, for the Ring was not immediately brought to rest where it would tempt the creature Gollum so many years hence, but instead carried further down, to the Ethir, the mouths of the Great River. At this time, a great many things were transpiring, weaving threads into the tapestry that would be the journey of the One Ring of Power. 

In another world, a life has been sacrificed to rend the veil separating the uncounted worlds, allowing a man to wage war against God Himself. It is through one of these rents that the Ring comes into the world of our story.

In that world, factions, both good and evil, fight a never-ending war in the shadows, conscious only of their enemies, largely unaware that powerful allies lurk about them, engaged in their own battles. Women warriors and the champions of the light have struck a critical blow against the darkness, at great cost and suffering. Powerful witches, their lives charmed –though often called cursed– by their very nature, wonder and worry over the creation of paradise at the hands of beings whose sole purpose is the destruction of good and evil. Valiant men and women ready their wands and hearts for the return of a once-thought-vanquished terror from within their own ranks. And finally, a boy, bearer of the way between the worlds, returns to find that his own world is not as unremarkable as he once thought, for there are those who know what he knows, want what he has, and have the power to take what he will not give willingly.


End file.
